Category Archives: beauty

Unspoken words

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The way your eyes look into mine is unfair.

You hold me in your gaze.

You see me.  You see into me.

Your eyes travel the contour of my face and rest on my smile.

Your eyes know every wrinkle around my eyes.

Your eyes know the emotion in every facial expression I have.

Your eyes know me.

But it isn’t fair.

Your eyes will never be able to look outward with mine,

they will never be able to look towards a future together.

lovers-embrace

For as much as we are drawn together,

the vision in your reality keeps us apart.

But your eyes continue to speak to me,

volumes of implied feelings are expressed with each blink.

My eyes read those thoughts and answer back.

The emotion in our unspoken words is palpable.

Hold me in your gaze for a while longer.

Hold me there forever.

~~

(image credit: michellealva.com)

Waterfall, what? – Trifextra challenge

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The basin at the bottom of the waterfall would always dazzle my reality and expand my myopic view of what beauty can truly look like.  The naked man swimming there didn’t hurt either.

raoul_bova_4

~~

(image credit: hunkdujour.com)

And on again to the weekend Trifextra Challenge:  On to the weekend prompt. This weekend we’re asking you to add thirty of your own words to the following three words for a total of thirty-three. Good luck!

myopic
dazzle
basin

– See more at: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/#sthash.xTpk2xs6.dpuf

My holiday spirit in two words

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Today’s world is a far cry from simple.  It is a labyrinth of cultures, race, skin color and vastly different systems of belief.  It is a melting pot of strong ideals and judgement and it is quickly becoming far less tolerant than it once was.

I happen to celebrate Christmas and in the process of that celebration I can be heard uttering two words that, although were once mainstream, are now, by some, thought to be completely offensive.  Merry Christmas.  Two words that contain the ideals of the child I once was and now hold dear the spirit of a celebration that I embrace.

I am not a vindictive person and, when I choose to utter those two words, I am not negating the fact that you may not celebrate this particular holiday.  I am choosing to share my love of the holiday season in my way.  I am attempting to insinuate my child-like joy into the moments of your day by choosing to wish you the best of the holiday season in a way that I learned through osmosis.  There used to be something exceptionally special about watching the joy spread by speaking those two words.  It was like watching a wave of true happiness spread from one person to the next.  Now, instead of riding that wave, it is more like treading lightly on the edge of the water ever mindful of sharp objects in the sand.

I have felt trapped at times, wondering if I should only articulate the two words that do not seem to easily offend, but “happy holidays” doesn’t encapsulate the true spirit I have at this time of the year.  Sure, it may be less offensive to some, but perhaps they don’t take the time to know the feeling behind the words.  By wishing you a Merry Christmas, I am merely saying that I want you to enjoy your way of celebrating as much as I enjoy mine and somehow inject some of my cheer into your day.

So let me throw caution to the wind and impart my holiday spirit to you on this Tuesday morning.  Merry Christmas to all and may the spirit of the holiday season, whatever your holiday may be, bring merriment to your smile and gladness to your heart.

(this is a blog post I wrote last year, but I felt it warranted being said again as we enter the festive season)

Tomorrow’s Outlines

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This is my first poetry duet with Hastywords and hopefully not my last.  She is truly a talented writer and beautiful person.  I’m sure you’ve already clicked follow on her blog, but if you haven’t you are missing out!

~

I found myself wandering aimless

between several different worlds,

in and out like a homeless ghost

my mind splitting, fracturing

and my perspective splintering

Lost in a cavern of realities

whispers of promise echoing

taunting, just out of reach

unsure of which path to choose

I float in a sea of uncertainty

bleeding colors

The colors of my past are bleeding

hiding lessons learned in a foggy gray

feelings and emotions are muddled

until I feel I may drown, breathless

inside all my lost yesterdays

The canvas of my life stares blankly

looking back at me with ambivalence

urging me to lift my head

beckoning me to not just tread water

but to thrive and embrace what lies beyond

Before despair takes me asunder

I focus only on paths ahead, determined

blurry lines begin to sharpen, harden

into black and white, new outlines

new paths, waiting to be colored in

~

(image credit: Stina Persson)

Through loving eyes – Trifecta Challenge

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My memory is vivid.  Her eyes moved evasively across our dirt-smeared faces and scanned our meager outfits.  Disapprovingly, those eyes formulated an opinion before we even had a chance to speak.  One by one she would pluck us from the line and dismiss us like we were disposable.  The torture of being an orphan was enough of a burden for a child, but living with the knowledge that each of us was special was even worse.  Not one of the couples who came to see us would spend the time to engage us in life, to let our unique qualities shine through the filth that we were subjected to each day.  I vowed to myself that, if I survived this Hell, my life would be about substance and not an outward facade.

The path I followed was no surprise to me.  The girls who live in my child care facility today feel empowered.  They are not concerned with their appearance as much as they are focused on the woman they wish to one day become.  I took my hopelessness and gave them hope.  I took my loneliness and gave them a loving home.  And I took my experience and gave them a chance to see themselves through their own eyes and not the eyes of a stranger.

~~

Written for the Trifecta Weekly challenge:

PLUCK: (transitive verb) 1: to pull or pick off or out 2 a : to remove something (as hairs) from by or as if by plucking    b : rob, fleece 3: to move, remove, or separate forcibly or abruptly 4 a : to pick, pull, or grasp at    b : to play by sounding the strings with the fingers or a pick

Remember: • Your response must be between 33 and 333 words. • You must use the 3rd definition of the given word in your post. • The word itself needs to be included in your response. • You may not use a variation of the word; it needs to be exactly as stated above. • Only one entry per writer. • If your post doesn’t meet our requirements, please leave your link in the comments section, not in the linkz. • Trifecta is open to everyone. – See more at: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/#sthash.YS9z9fyZ.dpuf

Our Eyes – Trifextra Challenge

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Your eyes take me

deep inside your soul.

When you gaze into my eyes

I feel I am whole.

When our eyes are locked

I see the piece of my heart you stole.

cm0303rowland

(image credit – current.org)

~~

Written for the weekend Trifextra Challenge: And now your Trifextra prompt. This weekend, writers, it’s up to you. We want you to choose a word and use it three times in your 33 words. However, it must be either a verb, noun or adjective and the form of the word cannot change, it must appear exactly the same three times. Please highlight your chosen word in your piece before linking up below. Happy writing! – See more at: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/#sthash.lBfgSjro.dpuf

Her First Mistake – 100 Word Song

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Her first mistake was letting herself get too close.  She felt the attraction immediately and tried her best to erase him from her mind.  His voice echoed in the recesses of her yearning.  The stare from his blue eyes branded his gaze into her brain.

She felt his touch as the wind tickled her skin and her cheeks flushed at the memory of his warm hands grazing her arms.

The fire within her slowly burned.  The mere thought of his lips on hers would ignite the inferno.  Perhaps the first mistake was not finding him sooner.  Fate is fickle, indeed.

~~

Written for the 100 Word Song Challenge over at My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog – Leeroy reached out to Jen aka @jenkehl aka www.jenkehl.com home of Twisted Mixtape Tuesday and my co-conspirator at www.raisedontheradio.com . She chose the great Lyle Lovett’s Her First mistake for this week’s 100 word song. It comes from the album The Road To Ensenada which won the 1996 Grammy Award for Best Country Album. That means it beat out some tripe from Tim McGraw or Garth Brooks or Brooks and Dunn so I already applaud the choice.

A Christmas Present for myself

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I have reached an age that family, friends and I agree that spending a lot of money on each other at Christmas is no longer necessary.  The true spirit of the approaching holiday is about spending time together and not reaching too far into that budget to pay money for things that we don’t need.  We have adhered to that rule and the only money that exits my bank account over the festive season is for my nephews.

This year I blurred the lines a little and bought myself a gift.  It really has been a while since I splurged on something that may seem frivolous, but something I have wanted for quite some time.  So I opened the purse strings, threw caution to the wind and pressed that magical button on my computer screen.  What happened afterwards reminded me of how I felt as a child when I got that gift I had put at the top of my list for Santa.  In less than a month, I will be sitting 10 rows back from the stage to see The Tenors perform live.

music-notes

(image credit: composersinredsneakers.org)

If you are familiar with my blog, you will know how deeply I care about music.  I have eclectic tastes when it comes to my collection of tunes, but I am always drawn back to these voices.  The song they are singing in that video was co-written by my dear friend Kenny Munshaw, another very talented artist and songwriter, and the song was written to raise money for the Big Brothers / Big Sisters organization.  If you care to purchase the song on iTunes, fifty cents from each download goes directly to the organization.

The cost of this ticket in regards to my budget made me second guess my decision, but only for a fleeting moment.  I was made painfully aware today how short life can be by hearing of tragedies befalling a few families I know.  This is an opportunity that I don’t want to regret by not taking.  I may even get a chance to make it backstage after the show to meet Remi, Clifton, Fraser and Victor (and Darryn Neville!) and that will be the gift that will keep on giving.

Santa, you can scratch me off whatever list you had me on…..this year I got everything I wanted!

Requesting a favor

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Hello to all of my blogging, Facebook and Twitter friends.  I am appealing to you for a bit of help.  I have started a new blog for Shamrock Lodge (my new job) and would love and appreciate it if you could check it out and follow if you could.  The more exposure we get, the longer I get to keep my job.  😉

Here is a picture of where I get to go every day to work, and below is the link to the new blog site.

IMG_0749

Shamrock Lodge

Taking the time

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Here is my post for the writing challenge I put up this morning, originally inspired by The Cutter.   See this post for more details if you want to join in the challenge.  El Guapo entered his in the comments section of my earlier post and the link to Janna’s post is below .

****

Amy was juggling too many things at one time.  She knew that.  The hours she was spending at the office were eating into her social life and causing a huge strain on her relationship.  She had promised herself she would spend more time at home, be the doting wife she had professed she would be in her vows, but her sunken eyes and dark circles under those eyes did much to disprove her intentions.  She was a workaholic.

As she trudged along the sidewalk to head towards the bus shelter she passed the same store windows she did every day.  She had never really taken notice of what the stores offered because it never occurred to her to care.  The flashing neon signs had never distracted her before but today she decided to lift her head and see what the flashing pink lights were telling her.  Her eyes strained to see the woman behind the counter and she immediately noticed how radiant she seemed.  Amy deviated from her routine and went in.

The first thing that hit her senses was the smell of cheap perfume.   Her favorite Led Zeppelin song, Going to California, was playing in the background so she took it as a good omen.  She had no idea what this place was all about but she felt drawn here so she continued to the counter.

Amy realized her mistake halfway through the makeover.  Her hair had been teased so much it  reminded her of when she was a kid and she created static electricity by rubbing a balloon on her head.  The blue eye shadow and pink blush had been applied so liberally she began to look like Mimi from the Drew Carey show and her red lips would give Angelina Jolie a run for her money.  All she needed now was a spray-tan and a tiny dog in a purse and she could be a Beverly Hills housewife!

Tissue in hand, Amy did her best to remove the offensive pastels and tame her hair into submission.  She left the shop bereft of her dignity and wondered how she would explain the lingering color palette on her face to her husband.  She was only doing it for him.

The bus ride home seemed to take twice as long and, after doing her best to become as infinitesimal as possible on the bus, she was only steps away from home.  She could see the candles flickering through the window and the shadow of her husband moving from room to room.  His movement took her off-guard since he was always comfortably ensconced in his recliner, usually asleep, by the time she got home.

He was there to open the door before she had time to fumble with her keys.  The dulcet notes of The Tenors caressed her ears as she took off her coat.  A medium boat of sushi was on the coffee table and the wine had already been poured.  He understood.  He knew her hard work was for a purpose.  As he leaned in to kiss her his eyes caught a glimpse of the make-up residue.  She simply sighed and shook her head.  He knew her well enough not to ask, wiped off some of the leftover lipstick with his thumb and his lips met hers.

Later, as she began to drift into a peaceful slumber, wrapped in the warmth of his arms, she only had the strength to whisper four words, “I’m taking tomorrow off”.

****

Other stories for the Random Selection:

Good Ol Days – JannaTWrites

Blind Date – The Cutter Rambles